


Naked, Vulnerable, but Completely Content

by theharellan



Series: I Have Found a Home (Ian x Solas) [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theharellan/pseuds/theharellan
Summary: Nights of sleeplessness sometimes call for creative solutions. Solas suggests Ian Lavellan try a lavender-scented bath, but Ian would rather not enjoy it by himself.





	Naked, Vulnerable, but Completely Content

**Author's Note:**

> Iander Lavellan is penned by dalishfreckles. This is part of a series of drabbles & roleplays about the relationship between their (non-Inquisitor) Lavellan and Solas as interpreted by myself. This is a repost of a drabble. Breaks represent a change in POV. Canon divergent.
> 
> NSFW for nudity and non-sexual intimacy.

“A bath?”  


Ian’s ears perk curiously towards the tub in the center of the room, despite the confusion that riddles his expression. Solas pulls his fingers from the water, shaking droplets from his hand. “I know, I am full of surprises.” His lips pull back in a toothy smile as he adds, “And you thought they stopped that evening in the grove.” The comment elicits a laugh from Ian, who takes a step forward and sniffs the air. 

“I smell... lavender?”  


“I imbued the water with lavender oil.” As he stands his joints crack, groaning with pressure from a day spent on his feet. “It is said to encourage sleep, I suppose we shall see if the rumours or true. I’ve taken them myself before, but you know as well as I that I rarely need any aid in finding sleep.” 

Ian’s hands fold over his heart, his brow furrowed, but still questions form. “Is it coloured purple?” 

Solas looks down. In the candlelight the water is almost too dark to tell, but he knows from experience that the colour lavender is almost nowhere to be found. “Actually...” 

A gloved hand flies over his lips. “It’s _purple_ , isn’t it?” Ian repeats, though it is less a question this time. 

He takes Ian’s hand in his, laughing fondly. “I wondered if you would notice,” he teases. The humour in his eyes fades, remembering the caveat he told himself he would offer Ian. “If you are not in the mood for a bath, do not feel obligated. I would be happy to take one in your stead, undoubtedly our companions would appreciate it.” 

“Maybe they’ll upgrade you to a _washed_ apostate hobo.” 

“Precisely.” 

Ian’s expression falls, not from sorrow, but thought. Solas recognises the specific turn of his brow as he contemplates his own feelings, and waits for an answer. “A bath sounds nice,” he decides. 

A smile turns Solas’s lips, hearing the answer he had hoped for. He peels back the opening of Ian’s glove to kiss his pulse point, leaving the rest to Ian himself. “I shall give you your privacy, then.” 

Stepping back, toe-heel, he scarcely makes it a breath away before Ian steps forward, as if dancing in-step. “Wait--” His hands snatch at the wolf’s jawbone that hangs around his neck, playing with the cord. “I--” Before he speaks another word his chin lifts, forcing himself to make eye contact before looking away just as quickly. Solas catches only a glimpse, but it is enough to see the pink beginning to blossom across Ian’s cheeks. “I thought you might like to join me.” 

It is a shame, or perhaps a blessing, that Ian cannot bring himself to look up for more than an instant, so that he does not see the heat that floods Solas’s face. He can feel his ears redden as Ian turns the jaw over in his hands, ears angled towards Solas. His mouth closes, lips curling coyly. “You have always known my thoughts, Vhenan,” he says, “but do _you_ want me to join you?” 

“Yes.” His answer is quick and sure, leaving no room for doubt. He laughs, a high, nervous sound, but hops up on his toes to plant a kiss on Solas’s cheek. “I do.” He pinches his hands from his gloves, dropping them in the floor so bare fingers can slip beneath Solas’s shirt. Somehow, his hands are still cold, but still welcome as they peel off his sweater, and his shirt after that. Both fall, forgotten, the wolf jaw tangled in the mess. Ian lays his hands across his bare chest, fingers smoothing across a dusting of freckles admiringly. “You--”  


It sounds like the beginning of a compliment, but no words follow. Instead, he brushes his lips across his collarbone, the heat from his face palpable on Solas’s skin. His hands find Ian’s hips, and Ian’s find his. Fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and pull the fabric over his hipbone. The palm of Ian’s hands glide over bare skin, easing them off Solas and onto the ground. A breathy, nervous giggle escapes Ian, prompting a quirk of the brow. 

“Have I done something to amuse?” 

“ _No_ \--” He answers, as quickly as before. “I was just thinking, your clothes are always so easy to take off.”  


“I would hate to make this complicated,” he snorts. Ian’s hands settle across his backside, his touch inspiring goosebumps along his spine. Solas fiddles with Ian’s collar, prying open the first button before he thinks better of it. “May I?”  


“ _Ahn_ , I think it would be easier if I...”  


“Say no more, I understand.” As he speaks Ian pulls them closer, their hips tapping together. He taps a kiss against a freckled forehead. “I’ll finish preparing the bath, join me when you’re ready.” Wriggling free of Ian’s grasp, he shakes his pants off his ankles and moves towards the bath. In the background he hears the soft swish of clothes floating to the floor, mingling in a mess that he would not clean ‘til sunrise.  


Solas holds his hands over the bath, hot air rising to curl upon his palms. For a moment the water moves, pulsing like a round stone was dropped in the center. From just beneath the surface bubbles begin to burst forth, rising in white peaks that he has not seen since Elvhenan. Of all the things lost, bubble baths are low on the list of things mourned, but remembering them now brings a smile to his face. He slips into the bath one foot at a time, sliding beneath the surface of the water to soak himself. The heat soothes his aching joints, lifting the pressure upon his knees and hips. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ian stepping out of the last of his clothes, every inch as freckled as his face. He flashes a bashful grin when he sees Solas staring, jaw slackening when he notices the bubbles that threaten to overflow the tub. “Oh, Solas! How did you--?” For once, his question is not lost to nervousness, but distraction, as he scoops out a handful. 

“A trick taught to me by Joy when I was only a boy.” It was the easiest way to entertain him while someone washed the dirt and mud from his curls. He suspects entertainment will not be a problem now, but--  


Suddenly his nose bristles, bubbles bursting in his ear as Ian dollops what rests in his hands onto Solas’s face. A mischievous snicker escapes his lips and he splashes into the tub, shoulders still shaking with giggles. “You have something on your nose,” he teases, undeterred by Solas’s best attempt at a frown. “Here.” He leans over Solas’s chest to rub their noses together, only succeeding at giving himself a bubble cluster to match. The sight inspires another fit of giggles, until he cannot resist joining Ian in laughter. 

The water sloshes over the edges as they sink deeper beneath the surface, stopping when it begins to lap against Ian’s chin where he has settled it upon his chest. “Comfortable?” he asks, to which the only response is a contented ‘ _Mmm_ ’ as Ian’s lids flutter. He wraps his arms around Ian’s middle, hands ghosting over scars, memories of abuse at the Circle tower. He tries to turn his thoughts from those years, and towards what transpires now. In his embrace, stripped of their clothes, Ian seems small against his shoulders, and yet his presence fills his world. 

His fingers move in circle, putting pressure upon the knots he feels beneath freckled skin. Too much stress, too much worry, but for the moment it melts away at his touch. Quiet sounds of contentment rumble within Ian as he turns his cheek, still-dry hair tickling Solas’s chin. He grows looser within his arms, anxiety melting and rising like steam from his muscles. “I love you.” It is an easy confession, not so riddled with weight as their reaffirmations had been weeks ago. 

“And I love you.” His is just as easy, but it does not lessen its meaning. When spoken so casually it sounds like an inevitability, like the cycle of the sun in the sky, but neither can forget the effort put into what has led them to this moment.  


Ian rolls off his chest, squeezing between Solas and the side of the tub to soak his hair in the water. He keeps his nose and mouth carefully above the surface, and floats beside him a minute with a small smile permanently plastered upon his face. He can only guess at what sustains it, he hopes he has something to do with it, but he suspects the sheer elation of choice buoys Ian’s pleasure. Being allowed to choose to linger beneath the surface, and to rise when he wishes. There is a power in that decision. 

When he pulls himself up he shakes his head like a dog fresh out of a lake. Water sprays everywhere, smacking Solas straight in the eye. Ian does notice until he hears the small hiss. Already pink from the hot water, only his flattened ears can display his dismay. “Sorry! I-- _ahn_ , I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Clearly instinct took over,” he snorts, sitting up. 

He thinks about reaching for the lye soap, to wash the dirt from his pores, but Ian is quicker. He launches himself at Solas’s lips, teeth clacking together before they find a sweeter rhythm. Water drips from ginger tresses that grow longer every day, trickling onto his cheeks. Ian dips him back against the rim, summoning waves that flood onto the floor once again. Solas laughs against him, delighting in the warmth of two arms encircling him, heavier than the water that surrounds them. “It does that,” Ian responds between kisses. Tongue pushes past his lips, quick and teasing, and Solas parts them on instinct. He can still feel bubbles upon his face where Ian had put them, bursting where their noses meet.  


As suddenly as the bout of affection begins, it ends, and Solas finds his lips pressed against an unmoving face. Eyes he did not realise he had closed open, meeting Ian’s. They shine with affection so strong not even the Veil can mask it. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice gentle with gratitude. “I... I don’t know if this will help me sleep, but at least it will be something nice to think of, if I don’t.” 

Solas bends his neck, foreheads touching. It’s foolish, but sometimes he can feel the Tranquil brand upon his skin, searing with white hot heat. The thought is brushed aside before it can ruin the moment, and he shuffles to free his arms from Ian’s weight. His hands glide down Ian’s spine, settling upon his behind. They are too close for Ian to see the playful grin that spreads from ear to ear, his face aching from the strain of too many smiles. “You thank me too quickly, _Vhenan_ ,” he breathes, turning his head so his words brush by Ian’s ears. “We’ve many memories we can make before the water runs cold.” 

Ian shivers, anticipation rising along his spine. His laugh is nervous, but eager, he draws Solas into another kiss before he finds the words he needs: 

“ _Show me_.” 


End file.
